The Story of Us
by ballistics belle
Summary: "Then, as they watch in 'comfortable movie silence' as she refers to it, he wonders what kind of cosmic fate has landed him here with her on his couch, sharing a bowl of Cheerios with sliced strawberries in it, when in fact, he hates the red berries and only adds the damn things because he knows that she adores them"- a collection of Tiva snippets
1. Insomnia

**a/n: **I got the idea from an old CSI:Miami fic by the same name. Just a collection of snippets between Tony and Ziva. Established Tiva.

Insomnia usually hits on the weekends and so they flip for it: AMC versus Discovery Channel; Rom-coms versus horror (he has to laugh when she turns on ever light in the apartment as the closing credits of Psycho rolls)

Then, as they watch in 'comfortable movie silence' as she refers to it, he wonders what kind of cosmic fate has landed him here with her on his couch, sharing a bowl of Cheerios with sliced strawberries in it, when in fact, he hates the red berries and only adds the damn things because he knows that she adores them.

'_Besides' _She hums as she swallows another spoonful. '_They are a fantastic source of vitamins.' _He rolls his eyes. She catches him and flicks a loop at him. '_You are a jerk, Tony. I do not know why I put up with you.' _She turns her attention back to _Casablanca _and Cary Grant and tries to hide her smile and ignore him as he begins to encroach on her space.

'_I know I am Zi.' _He says, kissing her on the temple. '_And I'm so very glad that you do.'_


	2. Blame

"It was not your fault."

"That," He scoffs "is what everyone says when they know it's your fault but they're just too polite to admit it to your face." He declares, slipping on his aviators to cover the guilt in his eyes. But before he can even adjust to the change, she rips them from his face and tosses them into the back of the Charger. "Hey! It's sunny." He complains. She stares unwaveringly at him.

"Who do you think you are fooling, Tony?" He stares forward out the windshield.

"Obviously not you."


	3. Tragedy

"I did not know you had one." She says, sounding amused as he unbuttons his shirt to show her the tattoo his he has on his left shoulder blade: a small, simple black silhouette of the theatre masks-comedy and tragedy.

"I got it with a friend of mine when I was sixteen." Ziva raises an eyebrow.

"I never figured you to be an unruly teenager. How old was your friend?"

"Same age. We looked older. They didn't even ask for IDs."

"Really?"

"Really. It was totally my friend's idea though. We picked out each other's tats. He chose the symbol for me. He thought they were a good representation of my personality, said I wore the mask of a clown to hide the tragedies in my life." Tony laughs humorlessly at the memory. Ziva is shocked at his honesty but cannot help but think that this friend had been spot on in his analysis.

"He chose wisely." She says instead as she traces the design with a finger tip. He holds his breath. "What did you chose for him?"

"A cross." He answers, suddenly somber. "A reminder to always keep the faith."

"What happened to him?" She asks. She reads the changes in his mood and knows this story does not have a happy ending.

"He killed himself when we were in college. He had suffered from depression for a long time….so much for keeping the faith." He whispers.

"I am sorry, Tony." She rests her forehead against his back, silently providing comfort and strength. He closes his eyes and a tear slips down his cheek.

"So am I."


	4. Breakfast

The sound of stainless steel against Teflon rings through her kitchen as he transfers the eggs carefully onto a plate which he then places down in front of her.

"You did not have to do this you know." She points out as she picks up her fork. He frowns.

"Do you really hate being taken care of, or does my cooking suck _that badly_?"


	5. Love

"You are telling me that you have only ever loved two women in your whole life?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" He asks with his chin tilted upwards. He looks into the mirror and drags the razor down the contours of his jaw.

"So," she smiles mischievously "Tell me about her."

"Oh god," he groans "I knew that was coming." He drops the razor into the sink and splashes water on his face. "Besides, what makes you so sure you're one of them?"

"Are you going to deny it?" She accuses. She slides up to his side to retrieve the discarded razor and he swallows hard.

"Point taken."

"Good. So you were saying?" When he doesn't answer she continues. "You know it is not _if _you tell me but _when _you tell me. I just want you to know that you will be hearing about this for the rest of the day so if you do not want McGee to find out I suggest you tell me _now._" She threatens. He growls at her successful attempt at blackmail.

"You win." He pauses. "She was beautiful."

"Of course."

"She loved movies—old black and whites were her favorite. We would spend our weekends traipsing around looking for theatres showing dollar matinees."

"Sounds like your dream woman." She snorts.

"Oh she was. I didn't think I could ever love anybody else the way I loved her." He answers softly. "That is, until I met you." He adds with a smirk. She rolls her eyes.

"So what happened to her? You obviously did not settle down with her."

"That would have been impossible. She was already taken, though I'm not sure that she really loved him as much as she loved me."

"What?" Ziva does not know what to make of the last part. Tony finds her eye in the mirror and holds her gaze as he answers.

"Zi, the only other woman I have ever truly loved….was my mother."


	6. Promises

There are tears in his eyes when he kisses her (somewhere along the line, he has stopped trying to fight it)

"Ziva," her name shakes on his uneven breath. "Ziva, please don't leave me."

He is begging. Tony never begs. It rattles her to see him this unraveled and raw. So much so that it causes her to do something incredibly stupid.

"I'll never leave you, Tony" she promises on the breath of a kiss. "Never."


	7. Sleep

She is on the couch because she cannot even stand to be in the same room with him right now. She has cried herself to sleep with a heavy throw over her shoulder. The fabric smells like him; his cologne, his shampoo, the soap on his skin and she finds herself hating it in her hazy dream.

He lifts her easily and carries her into the bedroom. He opens the sheets, then lays her there so gently she doesn't evens stir. He pulls the blankets over her frame and after kissing her forehead, drags himself out to the living room and takes her place on the couch.

In the morning, they'll avoid eye contact through breakfast and move silently but efficiently through their morning routines before he'll stop her while she's getting dressed and apologize for being an ass. In return, she'll apologize for bombing him ('_it's blowing up' Zi)_ and by the time they're walking out the door, last night's screaming match will be on its way to being a distant memory.

But for tonight, he'll take the couch even if it really is too small for him. He'd rather be alone on the couch than feel alone lying right there beside her in the bed.


	8. Greetings

Ziva hasn't even made it two steps into his apartment before his mouth descends upon hers. His hands are at the backs of her legs and he easily lifts her the few feet from the ground to his waist. Her shoulder blades crash violently against the front door, slamming it shut. She kisses him back, matching the energy he has running through him and he falls a little deeper for her. They pull away reluctantly when air is needed and Tony smiles that smile of his that never fails to make her melt.

"Hi." He greets her, his voice gravelly and low. "How was your day?"


	9. Hunger

There's a rustling noise coming from down the hallways and Ziva's hand is already under her pillow where she keep her Glock when she catches the faint scent of _Giorgio Armani_ hanging in the air. She sighs, suddenly realizing she had been holding her breath.

She slips out of bed and follows the noise to find Tony in the kitchen dressed in only a pair of soft blue boxers, rummaging through her fridge while munching loudly on an apple from her fruit bowl. She clears her throat and he looks up slowly, eyebrows raised. She is wearing his black dress shirt and nothing else.

"Sorry" he says cautiously as his eyes wander across her bare form. "I was starving."

"Not surprising." She quips. "You have been a busy boy tonight."

He gives her a wicked grin as he tosses away the apple to satisfy a different kind of hunger.


	10. Favorites

"Favorite color."

"Green."

"Favorite song." Tony sighs.

"I feel like I'm being interrogated."

"Well I cannot sleep." Ziva adjusts the sheets around her.

"But why do_ I_ have to be your victim?"

"Because it is my apartment, my room, my bed so just think of this as paying for your room and board. Plus, it amuses me." She laughs when he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "So, favorite song?"

"Sinatra. New York, New York."

"Favorite Western movie."

"Bad Day at Black Rock, Spencer Tracy with the one arm."

"Favorite book."

"I don't want to do this anymore."

"But I do. So favorite book?"

"The Great Gatsby."

"Really?" She props herself up on an elbow.

"Yes. And if you tell anyone that I'll blab about the trashy romance novels you hide in your nightstand." He points a finger at her. She glares at him.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."


	11. Rain

He taps on the door.

"Ziva come on, let me in." He receives no answer. "I'm not leaving till you open this door."

"Go home." She snaps. "I do not want to see you."

"Ziva, please, let me in. I just want to talk."

"Well I do not feel like talking."

"Zi…Ziva…open the door." He rests his forehead against the door. It's quiet, late and he is exhausted. "Please let me in. It's pouring rain out and I'm soaking wet and cold."

"I do not care."

"You clearly care enough to still be by the door." A pregnant pause, then the door swings open. He loses his balance slightly but quickly steps in before she can change her mind. He doesn't move, just stares at her. His suit and shirt are dark with water and his hair is plastered to his head.

"You are dripping all over my floors." She says flatly, arms crossed over her chest.

Well, it's a start.


	12. Sharing

"You hate mayo right?" He is making himself a sandwich at the kitchen's island counter.

"And ketchup too." She yawns (it's almost 3am) "I cannot stand either of those."

"Good."

"And what does that mean?" He scrapes a thick layer of it on a slice of bread.

"It means you won't be stealing a bite from my sandwich."

"Idiot." She throws him a dirty look and for the rest of _Vertigo_ tries to ignore the crunching of lettuce and tomato and that smug smile that is plastered on his face.


	13. Photograph

She keeps Tony's boarding school picture taped to her computer because it intrigues her.

The boy in that photograph is so different from the man she knows today. Her partner is confident (at times cocky) and self-assured. He knows he is _something_ and makes sure everyone else knows it too. But the boy in the photograph seems awkward, almost shy as if he isn't sure where he fits into the equation known as life.

She wants to know that boy. She wants to talk to him and tell him that it's going to be alright. That he is going to grow up and do great things and be a great person. She wants to comfort him and tell him that it's going to be okay. That she knows he feels lonely now but he won't feel that way forever. That he'll have a family (albeit an unconventional one) again someday. But most of all she wants to love that boy because she can still see him in the man who stands at her side today. In those quiet moments when his guard is down and his heart is exposed, she can see that boy who just wanted someone to care.

Unfortunately, she can never go back and meet that boy with the shaggy hair and the big glasses. But the picture helps to reminder her that by loving the man that he has turned into, she is loving that little boy too.


End file.
